Maxwell
"Let me see your hand." More than anything I want to lecture her on her carelessness, but my voice comes out slow and calm in efforts to ease the situation.
"No. What the hell are you doing here? Did you not see my note or do you just not care. Haven't you done enough damage?" The disgust in her voice feels as though a knife is shredding my insides.
"I did read your hate letter and I was going to go, but then I heard a crash. Note or not I had to see if you were okay. I might have pushed you too far, but you're the one who's making yourself bleed all over the floor. Now let me see your hand."
"No!" she yells as she squares her shoulders all while blocking as much of her hand from view as she can manage.
I force breaths to tame my anger because my patience is wearing thin. "Charlie, right now, you might need stitches. Let me see your hand."
"Stitches, sure act as if you care that I might need stitches. Let's be honest with each other, I can see your blood thirsty stare that seems to be unable to break away from my bleeding hand." She shakes her injured palm in the air, drops of blood splattering to the ground. "This is all you're after, blood. This is all you care about, not me, just what's inside. You see it spilling out and you can't stop yourself from thinking what a waste."
"That's not true." And that's the truth. It might seem as if Charlie is nothing but an attractive walking talking blood bag, but she's more than that. "I know what I did was wrong and it's going to take some time to gain your trust, but you're more than blood to me. You mean more to me than my own survival. I'm on the verge of begging here, Charlie. Let. Me. See. Your. Hand." I walk slowly toward her as I speak. She doesn't back up or try to run away, she just stands there.
I grab her hand with the intention of examining her wound, but before my eyes can focus on the cuts beneath the oozing blood, I see her uninjured hand soar through the air. A slight sting radiates across my cheek as I allow her open hand to make contact with my face. "I deserved that." I see her hand swing again. The force makes my head turn to the side, but the pain becomes nonexistent. "I might have deserved that one as well."
When I see her hand go for a third hit I catch her at the wrist. "Enough. I get it, Charlie, you're mad...I get it. I'm mad at myself too, but you'll understand sooner or later that I did what I had to in order to keep you safe, in order for you to remain human for as long as you wish." I let go of her hurt hand to catch her knee that's in the process of getting ready to strike me as she refuses to hear my words.
"Charlie." The authority in my voice startles her. I push her knee down so she's standing on both feet again. I barely straighten my back before she rips her hand out of my grasp; with both hands in fists, she begins to pound on my chest. Her bloody palm leaves streaks on my shirt. Doing nothing but standing there allowing her to get her anger out, I tell myself I deserve every punch, every jab and I undeniably deserve to be called every foul name she mutters out.
As she grows tired, I catch her hands, pinning them against me. My eyes go to the bite mark on her neck and notice shiny spots of fresh blood line the small circles. She's been picking at it. She yanks one of her hands free once again and pulls the collar of her T-shirt up to cover her neck from view. Looking straight into her eyes, I can't help but to notice speckles of blood that cover her face. I can only assume mine does as well.
I lower her cut hand, opening it to reveal her sliced palm. "I don't think you need stitches, but it needs to be wrapped tightly to apply some pressure in order to stop the bleeding," I say after a few seconds.
"In the bathroom is some gauze. I'll go..." She takes long blinks, refusing to look at me.
"Let me." In the snap of one's fingers I arrive back at her side with the bandages. I ignore her shocked stare and gently grab her uninjured hand and lead her to the kitchen table so I can nurse her wounds. The silence in the room is broken as the microwave beeps, signaling that whatever is inside is done.
Barely touching her hand as I wrap the gauze bandaging several times around her palm is all I can do to try to make this mess better. She winces a few times when I pull the wrapping tight. As soon as I add a few pieces of medical tape to secure the end, she pulls her hand into her lap once again, hiding it from view.
"Why don't you go change and go to bed? I can clean this up," I offer.
"I'm sure you would love to clean up my spilled blood," she says in a cocky tone.
I cut her off before she begins her ranting again. "Charlie, not again."
"Am I becoming a vampire?" She struggles to say her last word as if it were poison in her mouth.
"What? No."
"Do not lie to me, Maxwell. You keep so many secrets and tell so many lies, for once be honest. I know you said some mumbo jumbo earlier about me staying human longer, but tell me the truth."
"Not yet. It takes more than a bite to turn a human. You're just weak from the blood loss. You need to eat and rest." I stand up, grabbing her elbow, pulling her to her feet. "I will plate your food and bring it to you. Just go lie down."
She gives me a skeptical look, wanting to refuse the offer, but I know she wants to lie down more than anything. I leave her once we reach the doorway to her room. The microwave continues to beep and I open the door, annoyed by the noise it keeps making. I pull out a steamy glass container that holds some kind of casserole. In search of a plate, I open cupboard after cupboard.
After giving her enough time to change and crawl into bed, I make my way to her. Being a gentleman, I knock on the doorframe to signify my arrival.
Her small voice is barely audible. I walk in the dark room and place the plate on her lap, along with placing a glass of water on her nightstand. Without a word said, I leave her to eat while I go clean the blood. The temptation to lick any drops is overwhelming. Putting the tips of my finger to my lips, I waver. If she spots any staining on my lips she'll know I did exactly what she said I wanted to do. I'm stronger than the pull of blood. I went one hundred years without an ounce. I can wait a little longer.
I decide to go check on how she's managing her food. However, I barely make it through the doorway when I hear something wheezing through the air. As the sound gets louder, my fast reflexes react to the threat at hand. Effortlessly, I catch the empty plate just as it touches the tip of my nose. "Throwing things, Charlie." She doesn't stop keeping me on my toes, that's for sure.
The inhale and exhale of her breath fills the room, along with the disappointment that accompanies it. I assume it's to calm herself and keep her hateful words at bay. I allow her time to speak. "Just because I let you help me doesn't mean in the least that I forgive you even a little bit. You attacked me, Maxwell. You attacked me with intention. You had it all planned out and I had no other choice than to be the helpless victim."
"It's not like that. It's true that the party was a setup, but it was supposed to be fun. You were supposed to get to know Grace and a few other kind vampires that I've known many years." I see her squinty eyes glare at me, but if she's hell-bent on knowing why she became a victim. I'm more than willing to tell her.
"Eugene, the man you saw me with at Junction 22 is on The High Council. He came up here to meet you. He was called back and since he didn't meet you due to your...hatred of me, The High Council stepped in. They scheduled the presentation against my will. You do as they say, Charlie, or bad things happen."
I can hear her heart race. I know she has many questions, but the longer I stare at her ghostly pale face the more I listen to my better judgment. "We have plenty of time to discuss the cruel-hearted men that the council consists of. Later. Right now you need rest." With that said, I turn away and shut the door behind me without waiting for a response. One final stop at the kitchen sink to drop the plate off and then I head to the front door. She'll thank me soon enough.
It only takes a few minutes of walking down the bare streets before I reach the hotel. The cold breeze that whips through the trees doesn't faze me besides the obvious fact that it ruffles my hair, occasionally blocking my vision. The houses I pass on Charlie's block show just how oblivious the world really is. Lit windows showing carefree individuals cause regret to build up inside my dead body. I'm taking the bland human life away from Charlie and deep down I know she deserves better than a vampire's life, but I can't let her go. Selfishness is something I can't shake away.
Finally, entering my secluded room, I stay in the darkness. The only sound that fills the air is the drumming of my fingers and the low hum of the steady traffic from below. I pushed her too far and I'm not sure I can get her back. She was in my grasp and then The High Council had to push their authority on me. Now I'm barely able to keep her from slipping through my frantic fingertips.